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Jevara and Cylex first met at a prestigious military academy. Jevara’s father insisted that he receive military training as well as scholastic studies so the academy was the clear choice. The academy prided itself in the rigorousness of its physical and academic programs. Cylex attended via an academic scholarship and his background and world view were very different from his ultra-rich classmates. Despite what most considered disadvantages, Cylex graduated top of his class and immediately began building upon the skills he had learned. Jevara’s father died two years later, and Jevara had been sole ruler of Torret ever since. Cylex didn’t considered Jevara a close friend and knew better than to trust him, but there were advantages to having a common history with a planetary leader.
Following the herald up the staircase on the right, Cylex organized his thoughts and prepared for the conversation. Cylex had instigated this meeting so he would control what was said, at least as the exchange began.
The throne room, or Presence Chamber, echoed the gilt and ivory décor of the outer room. However, it felt small and claustrophobic after the spectacle of the immersive ocean view. The throne sat upon a dais and Jevara was seated on the throne. Long and narrow, his face was framed by waves of golden-blond hair. Both the color and the arrangement were created by his stylist and reflected his frivolous life. His garments were surprisingly simple, but ostentatious jewelry adorned most of his fingers, his ears, neck, and of course his head. Did he think people would forget he was the emperor if he failed to wear a crown?
After the expected bows and ceremonial greetings, the emperor asked, “Have you been following these ridiculous riots? Hard-working people do not have time to march through the streets and shout obscenities. Perhaps I will raise taxes again. That should get these troublemakers back to work.”
Crippling taxes were one of the reasons that desperate workers had taken to the streets. Laidon Feran was a strong and compelling leader. Cylex was smart enough to keep his opinions to himself, but he was a silent supporter of the rebellion. Jevara had always been self-serving and cruel. All of the conflict he was facing now could have been prevented. “I have been off world for the past few weeks.”
Jevara stared at him for a moment, eyes narrowing. Then he shrugged and moved on. “I was surprised by your request for an audience. You tend to avoid court intrigue.”
“This was too important to trust to ordinary means of communications, Your Imperial Majesty.” He looked pointedly at the four guards flanking the entrances. “I prefer to speak with you alone. If you will permit it, of course.” Obligation motivated his shows of deference rather than respect. Jevara had been taught from early childhood that he had been chosen by the Supreme Being to rule the planet. He was arrogant and capricious, his decisions based on emotion. Cylex was a firm believer in meritocracy.
Jevara dismissed the guards with a wave of his hand. Then he surprised Cylex further by stepping down from the dais and approaching him. “What is this about?”
“You asked that I investigate the rumors that Azar Turin has located the missing conduits.” Stories had been circulating for decades about a group of females, led by Azar Turin’s mate, who fled Altor and were living on some distant planet to avoid using their abilities. The accounts varied wildly. Some claimed that the number of females was five or six. Others insisted that several hundred had disappeared in a mass protest against the Citadel.
“I was barely a teen when this protest was supposed to have happened, so I don’t remember what actually took place.” Jevara rotated the ring on the middle finger of his right hand. He indulged in the impulse whenever he was deep in thought or feeling anxious. “My mother insisted that the stories were true, but my father dismissed them as nonsense. What were you able to learn? Is there an untapped well of mystic energy on some faraway planet?”
“Azar located his daughter and two other conduits, so there is some validity to the stories.”
“Really?” Jevara spun the ring faster, his blue-green gaze filling with interest. “Is the daughter contracted or will there be an auction?”
“She was contracted at fifteen as is their custom,” Cylex stressed. Jevara would have liked nothing better than to have Azar’s daughter under his control. The war with Altor was about territory and power, as most wars were, but there was also an element of cat and mouse between Jevara and Azar. They both considered themselves brilliant strategists and took pride in outsmarting their advisories. Jevara had no mystic aptitude, but he could have sponsored a controller or a source with the right loyalties thus gaining control of his enemy’s offspring. Cylex was relieved to report, “Azar took his daughter’s mates with him during the rescue. Most likely she was claimed before they left the other star system.”
“And where was this star system? Do you have any idea how many conduits remain on the planet?”
Cylex had anticipated these questions, but secretly hoped that the emperor would be so fixated on the daughter that the other possibilities would escape his notice. Power triads had been severely misused, even abused, on Torret. Emperor Jevara was the primary reason that Torretian applications were always rejected. Cylex should know. He had applied to the Citadel three times. His aptitude scores were exceptionally high and still he had been turned down each time.
Pushing aside his resentment, he reluctantly reported what he’d learned. He was Jevara’s top covert agent, but that could change in an instant if the emperor learned that Cylex had lied or was holding out on him. “I left a recon ship in the area. Two of Azar’s teams are still there as well. Obviously, he is not convinced that he found all the wayward females.”
“We need to find the others before Azar does.”
The emperor’s reaction was telling. He seemed more concerned with beating Azar to the prize than controlling the wayward conduits. “It is my intention to find them,” Cylex assured him. “The investigators I left on Earth are excellent. They will learn the truth.”
“Well done.” Jevara nodded thoughtfully then turned and walked back to the dais.
Cylex was surprised by the compliment. Jevara’s words of praise were few and far between. “How would you like me to proceed?”
“Let your investigators do their job,” Jevara said firmly. “I have need of you here.”
Acknowledging the statement with a nod, Cylex asked, “What can I do for you, Emperor Jevara?” Cylex preferred to stay as far away from the capital as possible. Unfortunately, he served at the pleasure of the crown.
“Has anyone at the Citadel ever seen you?”
Cylex tensed. With his aptitude for magic, it had been inevitable that he be called upon to spy on the Citadel. That was why he had been so determined to be accepted into the Power Triad Program. If he became a source, it would free him from Jevara’s authority. The Citadel was a politically neutral city-state and members of the program had diplomatic immunity. They were bound by the laws of the Citadel and only the Citadel.
“As you are aware, the Citadel rejects all applications from Torret,” Cylex stated mechanically. “Images are not submitted with the applications. They claim it helps them be objective. Still, it is possible they will recognize my name.”
Jevara rolled his eyes as he slumped back in the throne. “Why create this illusion of objectivity when they have every intention of rejecting anyone from Torret? How is that fair?”
Cylex didn’t bother answering. Jevara knew damn well that his actions had resulted in the moratorium. Jevara had chosen to include the Citadel in his war with Altor even though the two were separate. Altorians had founded the Citadel, but the space station had always been considered an autonomous entity.
After a long tense silence, Jevara continued with his explanation. “I want you to use your mother’s name and apply again. Do not conceal the fact that your father was Torretian, but insist that your upbringing is Altorian.”
It wasn’t far from the truth. He had lived on Altor until he was thirteen. “I am not sure it will matter. I am still the son of a Torretian general. Chances are high that they will reject me again.”
The casual comment snapped Jevara’s gaze back to Cylex’s. “How many times have you applied?”
